How Do You Give — From Your Heart Or Pocket?

Norma Stanley sat facing the blank screen on her computer, battling with her decision. Joy Hill has been a loyal friend and supporter of all her charities for over thirty years. Her life was good. She was raised by wealthy parents who provided her with everything she wanted and needed. She returns the favor to humanity. Allison, her 16-year-old granddaughter, lost her father recently and was buried in grief.

Her father was her life after he divorced her mother when she was two. She adored Jim because he had raised her himself, as her mother wasn’t ready to be a parent. Joy did all of her grandmother’s duties like a pro, but couldn’t connect with her only grandchild. Now, with her father dead, Joy wanted to reconnect. But she couldn’t get through because of the level of pain her only grandchild was enduring at this moment.

Norma was asked to interfere. To try to find out what more she needed.

After hearing what Allison had to say, Norma couldn’t tell that to her. Those words should be spoken by the person who is enduring the hell they contributed to.

Yes, her instincts suggested, “let her hear the truth from the heart that stores the pain she caused. It will be more effective than hearing it from you.”

Three days later, Norma, Joy, and Gloria, Allison’s mother, waited inside one of their favorite cafés. Silence reigns until Allison strolled towards them, with an older female with her.

She introduced her to Norma, “my father’s mother, whom I will continue to live with,” she warns, staring at her mother and grandmother, rage emitted from the pain surging in her heart. They sat down, and as the waitress walked towards them, Allison raised her hand and said, “We won’t be staying, please come back after we leave.”

Silence breath could be heard and felt.

Allison explained, “I want to thank both of you for giving me life. You both provided me with everything I wanted …”

“So, what’s the problem?” her mother asked.

“Everything you gave me came from your pocket, wallet, or bank account,” she reminds them.

Shock popped their eyes and pulled their jaws down.

She went on, “Nothing came from your hearts. Most days, I wanted to be with my mother and grandmother, not the gifts they gave me. I wanted a hug, a kind touch, a thought, or an idea. I wanted someone to hold my hand and walk me to school. To brush my hair, laugh with me, tickle me. Make me my favorite breakfast, help me bathe, and dress. Take me shopping, to the fair, or to movies. Someone to sit with in silence. Someone to listen to me as I speak. I needed both of you to love me from your hearts, not your pocket. Money doesn’t fill every gap, Grandma. I want both of you without your money,” she informs, her eyes still on them, while holding on to her other grandmother’s hand.

In tears, Joy said, “That’s how I was raised. I wasn’t aware that’s where my love was coming from.”

“And you raised your only child that way. You couldn’t separate yourself from your wealth,” she stated, her eyes now on her mother. “Why couldn’t you love me?”

Gloria stared at her only child without emotion, then revealed, “I can’t give what I don’t have.”

“Couldn’t you connect love with the Kindness you got from the helpers who raised you?” Allison inquired.

“They were paid to be kind to me, how would I know the difference?” Gloria demands.

“Everyone was paid to be kind to you. So, I understand why real love got lost in transition. But my father just wanted you, Mom. Not your money,” Allison reminds her.

“Like I said, I can’t give what I don’t have. I raised you how I was raised,” she states.

“Money doesn’t replace a parent or grandmother’s love, Mom. All I wanted from both of you was love. Your kindness was connected to your money. Love and kindness in your world weren’t connected,” Allison stressed, searching their eyes for a connection.

They both nodded.

“You wanted to take me away from my father because you could provide for me,” Allison said, her eyes on her grandmother.

“I just wanted the best for you,” Joy explained.

“Your best is devoid of love. I needed the love my father could give me that you and your daughter couldn’t. My father could love from the right place. You were raised to love from your money. My father’s mother will be my guardian. Thank you again for giving me life.”

Joy grabbed her as she got up to leave. She didn’t struggle. She returned the hug when Joy’s tears touched her skin. They wept pain and regret as Gloria looked on.

Joy released her and asked, “Can you teach me to love from my heart instead of my pocket?”

Allison hugged her again, tears racing down her face. Then said, “Can we start today?”

Many of us give love from our pockets, wallets, or bank accounts. Others give from our hearts.

Where do you give love from?

Mine comes from here!

This heart can’t hold love.

Love and kindness are friends, just as cruelty and hatred are.

Open that heart and let love in.

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoyed it.